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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093445">falling for the flow of home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orayofsunshine/pseuds/orayofsunshine'>orayofsunshine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Grogu puts himself into a food coma, I listened to a lot of irish folk music while writing this, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Slow Dancing, THAT THEY DON'T REALIZE IS MUTUAL, could be reader insert I don't make the rules, crewmates to friends to lovers, emotionally constipated Din, for the ambiance, gratuitous armor appreciation, no beta we die like men, pure fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:28:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093445</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orayofsunshine/pseuds/orayofsunshine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Din Djarin didn’t dance. </p><p>His main rationale was this: no one would take him seriously if they saw him dancing. His ability to intimidate those around him on appearance alone was what made his already difficult job somewhat easier. He couldn’t afford to lose that. So even if he wanted to dance- which he didn’t- he still wouldn’t. </p><p>But, despite all of his swearing to himself, the way his kid’s caretaker looked as she danced barefoot around the roaring bonfire, hair loose and messy around her shoulders and her cheeks flushed from twirling around nonstop all night was nearly enough to make him change his mind.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>falling for the flow of home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sooooo, this is my first fic that I've written for the Mandalorian, and I'm really happy with how it turned out! I'm still working on getting Din's voice right, but I think I did pretty good for my first shot at writing him! This is nothing but pure fluff and domesticity, with a healthy dose of pining. I wrote the OFC intentionally vague, so I guess it could be reader insert if that's your jam! I only kind of edited this, so if there's any glaring errors, feel free to let me know! </p><p>Title came from the song "Téir Abhaile Riú" by Celtic Women (yes i heard it on tik tok don't @ me) </p><p>Anyways, enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Din Djarin didn’t dance. </p><p>He wasn’t really indifferent or opposed to the activity. He had danced some as a child at feasts and celebrations with his covert, but once he hit a certain age he preferred to sit aside and watch the festivities rather than participate. </p><p>(He didn’t want to think about the ever present ache in his knees and back, and how it hurt just to watch the fast paced jigs. Because that would mean admitting that his age was catching up with him and that he was slowing down, which was something he wanted to avoid thinking about as long as possible.) </p><p>His main rationale was this: no one would take him seriously if they saw him dancing. His ability to intimidate those around him on appearance alone was what made his already difficult job somewhat easier. He couldn’t afford to lose that. So even if he <em> wanted </em>to dance- which he didn’t- he still wouldn’t. </p><p>But, despite all of his swearing to himself, the way his kid’s caretaker looked as she danced barefoot around the roaring bonfire, hair loose and messy around her shoulders and her cheeks flushed from twirling around nonstop all night was nearly enough to make him change his mind.</p><p>“Dance with me!” She pleaded playfully with a giggle, practically skipping over to him when one song ended with the flourish of a fiddle. In the dim light he could see the sheen of sweat on her forehead, giving her an ethereal glow that made her look infinitely more beautiful than she usually did. </p><p>He had it bad for her, and he had for longer than he cared to admit. How could he not, when she looked after his son so well, loving him as if he was her own? She had stuck around much longer than he had ever expected to, and after two years he was beginning to toy with the idea of her being a permanent fixture in their lives. He certainly wanted it, and he hoped that she felt the same. His lifestyle was not for the faint of heart, and she took every challenge in stride, all while staying sweet and kind despite the ever present wickedness of the galaxy. </p><p>“I don’t dance.” He said, shaking his head once. She frowned, shoulders drooping. </p><p>“You’re no fun.” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “The villagers are throwing this party for <em> you </em>, and you aren’t even participating!” </p><p>“I am participating, I’ve enjoyed watching everyone.” He countered, even though his brain amended his statement to what he truly meant- <em> I’ve enjoyed watching you. </em></p><p>She frowned again, still unsatisfied with his response, and rolled her eyes at him. She opened her mouth to retort, only to be cut short when one of the older women in the village approached them, a very drowsy Grogu in her arms. </p><p>“I found him dozing off by the food, I think he might have been helping himself over there and just couldn’t keep his eyes open.” She tittered, and Din wouldn’t deny the warmth that spread throughout his chest at the sight of the caretaker cooing quietly, opening her arms to take him from the other woman. </p><p>“You sleepy little thing, it’s well past your bedtime, mister.” She said softly as she rocked him gently, running the tip of her finger over his wrinkled forehead. Grogu yawned and nuzzled into her chest, clutching the gauzy fabric of her top in his fingers. </p><p>“I can take him, if you want to stay and dance.” Din said, not wanting to pull her away from the festivities. She shook her head, a small smile gracing her face. </p><p>“I’m all danced out for the evening, I think. Will you grab my boots?” </p><p>He nodded, bending down to grab them from where she had taken them off at the beginning of the night, choosing to dance barefoot in the plush green grass of the meadow in the center of the village. Boots in hand, Din led them away from the bonfire and towards their lodgings, both of them giving polite nods and quiet <em> goodnights </em>to the others who had chosen to stay out of the dancing as well and lingered on the fringes of the gathering. </p><p>“You did a good thing, helping them the way you did.” She said as they weaved their way through the tiny cabins and tents, the sounds of bugs and birds becoming clearer the further they got from the lively jig that the band was playing. </p><p>“I didn’t know that the bounty was terrorizing them, I just took the puck and bagged him. That’s hardly saving the town.” He said, too modest for his own good. The caretaker rolled her eyes at him, reaching up to flick him on the side of his head, the quiet <em> dink </em>of her nail against beskar ringing throughout the still night. He shoved her lightly in retaliation, not enough to throw her off balance, just enough to make her stumble her next step before she was shoving him back with much more force than he had given her. </p><p>“If you wake the kid up, you’re getting him back to sleep.” He threatened, sparing a glance to where Grogu was still fast asleep pressed against the pillow of her breasts. His threats were baseless though, given the little spot on drool on her shirt and the quiet snores coming from the baby, they both knew that the little monster had likely eaten his way into a food coma and would sleep hard through the night. </p><p>The rest of the walk to their little cabin was spent in a comfortable, familiar silence- a silence that continued as they made their way inside and settled the baby into the little crib that someone had brought for him to sleep in. With Grogu down for the night, the two moved around each other as they went through their routines and got ready for bed. Her routine was simple- she changed into a thin, pale blue nightgown, wiped the sweat off of her skin with a damp washcloth, then ran a brush through her hair before tying it back into a long, simple braid. Din, on the other hand, took his time carefully taking off his beskar, buffing and polishing each piece until it shined like it was brand new in the low light of the candles that were littered around the small room. The woman watched him, knowing his routine almost by heart after watching him do it so many times. She knew that his beskar was precious to him, but not in a selfish sort of way. His armor was worth a large fortune, and many had attempted to swindle him out of it, but unlike those who tried to steal it away from him, he did not cherish the armor because of its monetary value. </p><p>He held a reverence for it that held a deeper meaning, a higher significance than just money. His armor and the beskar it was forged from was his very identity, in it he was one of the people, a member of his Creed that he could not be ripped away from. His armor told the story of warriors who had once been triumphant, yet still fought and lost like so many other people who had fallen prey to the Empire. Yet still, they persisted. She knew how he had acquired the beskar that his armor had been made from, and though he had told her that some had thought little of him because of his willingness to make deals with the Empire, she saw it as a man risking a great deal to bring a prized object back to those it rightfully belonged to. Beskar belonged with Mandalorians, and Din had done what was necessary to reclaim it. He knew what had been stolen and destroyed for the Empire to obtain the precious metal, and he had fought hard to get it back. She could think of few things more noble than what he had done. </p><p>She also knew that he still felt a great deal of shame for exactly <em> how </em>he had obtained it- trading Grogu for the camtono of beskar, but the one and only time he had brought it up she nearly whacked him on the head for it. Yes, he had turned him over to the Empire, that much was true. But, what spoke volumes more about his character was that he hadn’t left the baby with them, and he had risked everything to rescue the little boy that had stolen their hearts. </p><p>She joined him at the little table he was sitting at as she finished getting ready for bed, taking a seat across from him and yawning quietly, the exhaustion of the day catching up to her. </p><p>“You should go to sleep, I’m sure the village will find some way to celebrate something else in the morning.” Din said, not lifting his head from where he was buffing out his pauldron, taking care to get every nook and cranny of his signet clean. She watched him carefully as he worked, pursing her lips and shaking her head. </p><p>“I think we’ll be lucky if anyone is up before midday.” She said. “The party was still going strong when we left, if you can recall.”</p><p>Din hummed, keeping his visor steadily pointed down at the task at hand. He worked for another minute before setting his cleaning rag down and leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. </p><p>“Which makes me wonder why you wanted to leave so early. I’m sure there were plenty of young men who wanted to dance with you.” He said, his tone as casual and unreadable as ever though he knew that it could easily be tinted with jealousy. She snorted quietly in response, mirroring his pose as she leaned back in her seat. </p><p>“Well, the only man I wanted to dance with said no, so I thought it was best to turn in for the night.” She shot back quickly as she crossed her arms over her chest, lifting an eyebrow up at him as the meaning of her words hit him. He was the only one she wanted to dance with? His heart jumped into his throat, and it took every bit of his training to remain impassive, even though he knew that he had jumped slightly at the realization and she was perceptive enough to have picked it up. </p><p>He didn’t say anything in response, but she had spent enough time around him to know that sometimes his silence meant the end of the conversation, while other times it meant that she needed to keep pushing.</p><p>“Will you dance with me now?” She asked, uncrossing her arms and letting her head tip to the side slightly. He watched her carefully, his eyes following the way her hair spilled over her shoulders in its loose braid, wishing not for the first time that he could reach out and run his fingers over it. Would she be angry with him if he pulled the little piece of cord that held it together? Would she try to stop him if he gently unwound the thick strands of hair, letting her hair back down into the loose waves that it naturally held? Though it was such a simple display of intimacy, it was enough to make his heart thud in his chest. </p><p>“There’s no music.” He answered after a long moment, feeling like he was grasping at straws for a reason to reject her. His brain scrambled for another excuse before the truth unwittingly fell out of his mouth with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know how.” </p><p>He didn’t like feeling so helpless. He knew his list of skills was long and varied- he could kill a man with just about anything within arms reach (or with his bare hands, if push came to shove) and he had lost count of how many languages he could have a passable conversation in, yet when it came to talking about something as simple as dancing and being close with someone he cared for, he didn’t have the first clue where to begin. </p><p>“You don’t have to know how.” She reassured him as she stood from the table, holding her hand out to him with an easy smile on her face that hinted at a bit of mischief. “I won’t even complain if you step on my toes.” </p><p>That was all the convincing it took for him to stand and take her hand, pulling her in and resting a hand lightly on her hip. </p><p>“Like this?” He asked hesitantly, flexing his fingers lightly into the flesh of her lower back, her skin warm through the thin fabric of her nightgown. She nodded, looking up at him through her lashes. Her eyes sparkled in the low candlelight, and Din traitorously wondered if they would look even more beautiful without the filter of his visor in between them.  </p><p>“Perfect.” She said, her voice little more than a whisper. She set her free hand on his shoulder, twisting her nimble fingers into the dark fabric, and then they were dancing. </p><p>It was little more than stilted box steps around the cramped space, a respectable distance between them as she quietly instructed him how to move. The dance was nothing like the Mandalorian dances he had done as a child, yet he found that he didn’t care. As the candles around them shrank and the piles of wax at their bases grew, their hold on each other grew closer and closer until they were chest to chest, their box steps morphing into a gentle rock from side to side. Their even breathing was the music that guided their movement, a quiet melody that was reserved only for the two of them. Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder, and he realized that she fit perfectly in the cradle of his arms. He spared a glance down at her face and saw that  her eyes were closed and a peaceful expression had settled on her features. Emboldened by her easy display of affection, he rested his head against the top of hers, his anxiety slipping away slightly as she hummed softly and relaxed deeper into the hold he had on her. </p><p>Din couldn’t remember the last time he had held someone so closely and tenderly. Mandalorians were not known for soft and gentle touches, and the only time he made contact with others was when he was fighting for his life, and more often than not he walked away from it all with a bone deep ache that settled in his body for days. (He tried not to think of yet another reminder that he was getting older, and while he didn’t wish for the same ignorance and arrogance that plagued his younger years, he did wish that he could spring back from injuries the way he did when he was in his twenties.)</p><p> He almost felt like he didn’t deserve to be holding her the way he was, that his hands were too dirty, too covered in violence and spilled blood to be touching something so pure. He supposed that was what drew her to him so fiercely- she was kind and soft and gentle, everything he had been trained not to be. Everything in her went against his nature, and yet she still drew him in like the tide. </p><p>Yet something about having her pressed against him, her heart beating steadily against his, melted away the hard layer that he had built around himself and he couldn’t bear to let her go. Instead, he gave into temptation and ran his hand up her spine, savoring the way she shivered in his arms at the touch, and pulled the cord loose from the end of her braid. He let it slip from his grasp and fall to the floor, and she said nothing as he twisted his fingers through the ends of her hair, relishing in how it was even softer than he had ever could have imagined. She shuddered an exhale against his shoulder at the simple touch, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged on his lips. </p><p>“This alright?” He asked, voice choked with an emotion he couldn’t quite put a name to. She nodded once against him, wrapping her arms tighter around his waist. </p><p>“Perfect.” She murmured, keeping her voice low to not break the spell that had settled over the room. </p><p>There were no grand declarations or words spoken that night, and there didn’t need to be. Neither of them wanted to talk about feelings or what their intimate embrace meant, that would come in time. They knew without having to say anything that something had shifted between them as they danced those unsure steps around the humble little cabin, marking a new beginning in their lives. Something deeper had been unearthed in both of them- assurance that maybe their pining was not as unrequited as they had led themselves to believe. Yes, there would be plenty to talk about later.</p><p>In the meantime, they had a quiet moment of peace that was rare for their lifestyle, and they were content to rest in it for as long as possible. Because the sun would rise the next day and there would be a mischievous baby to chase around, bounties to hunt, and limitless amounts of excitement (and trouble) that somehow always had a way of finding them. All they knew was that what they had in that moment was rare, and they were not going to trade it for anything in the galaxy. </p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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